Trapped In Sanity
by TwoHearts-OneShip
Summary: Nick and Greg find themselves in trouble after a case leads them into an old building famous for its haunted past. A post-halloween one shot.


Me again, finally. I had a lot of fun writing this. I'd had this idea for a long time and as it was Halloween not long ago I thought I'd get it down on paper, so to speak. Hope you enjoy. Reviews always welcome, as usual.

xXx

Gazing out of the window as Vegas rushed by them, lights glinting off the car and fading to nothing as they travelled further and further away from the bustle of the city, Greg suppressed a shiver. He felt, irrationally, that it was a darker night than usual, despite the full moon and the brilliance of The Strip that still painted their surroundings. Turning to his companion, Greg felt a small thrill creep up his spine, a heady mixture of anticipation and anxiety washing through him and making his eyes sting a little.

"When I first came to Vegas, I drove up to this place." He said softly, the sound of his voice still seeming overly loud in the otherwise silent car. Beside him, Nick raised an eyebrow.

"I've never been there." He replied, gazing stoically at the road ahead as buildings were left behind and they crept steadily upwards into the trees, the only break in the darkness being the eerie glow from above, and the unnatural sheen from the Denali's headlights.

"How can you have lived in Vegas this long and never been there? It's famous." Greg argued, noting the way the corner of Nick's mouth lifted ever so slightly into a smirk as he shifted gear to take them around a shadowed curve in the road.

"It's a load of bull, is what it is. Ghost stories and urban legends." He mumbled as Greg rolled his eyes and stared out of the window again, his eyes widening as the looming red brick structure came into view over the top of the forest canopy. Greg shivered again.

"Cynic."

xXx

Stepping out of the car as Nick pulled to a stop, Greg gazed up at the building standing before him. It rose impressively up into the night sky, stars twinkling above the stone turret that graced the entranceway, tall wooden doors gaping like a silent scream. It stretched to the right and left, red brick covered in the tangle of plants, dirty and unkempt, broken windows glinting at them from above. The silence was heavy, and Greg let out a low whistle, unable to tear his gaze away as Nick retrieved their kits from the back of the SUV and made his way over to the officers milling around their cruisers.

It was much more impressive than he remembered it, the cover of darkness making the stories he had heard seem much more real. Greg felt himself moving forward, his mind a wash with thoughts and ideas, his body responding to the intrigue he felt at being surrounded, yet again, by another symbol of Vegas' illustrious and haunting past. It wasn't until he heard Nick call his name that he realised he had reached the front door, his hand inches from pressing against the worn wood.

"The officers said that the area has been cleared, but we should stick together just the same..." Nick told him, pulling him back slightly and handing him his kit, looking him in the eyes as if he knew just what Greg had been thinking. Greg felt his cheeks flush slightly as he nodded silently.

"Wouldn't wanna get lost in here." Nick was saying as he pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving Greg to follow sedately behind.

The entrance hall was large and shadowed, with corridors to the left and right, and a staircase leading away from them to the upper levels. Greg wrinkled his nose, the acrid smell of damp and decay pressing down on him. He flicked his flashlight on, aiming the beam at the walls, noting peeling paint and obscene graffiti. In one corner of the hall stood a wooden desk, dulled by dust and age. Broken pieces of furniture and lumps of plaster lay around its feet, and as Greg crept closer he could also see beige files spread out around it, their contents carelessly spilled over the floor. Greg peered down at one, squinting to make out the typed words.

"You know, after this place was built in the 1920's, it could house up to 400 TB patients at a time, and rumour has it that around 63,000 people died here."

"Impossible." Nick scoffed, turning away to examine the floor leading to the staircase. Greg shrugged and gazed down at the files again, frowning.

"Room 502..." He whispered, leaning down to brush the dust off the picture of a woman, her eyes piercing even in the gloom of black and white. He turned to Nick, but the slamming of a door from somewhere upstairs cut him off and he jumped, clutching the photo to his chest, panting hard. Nick also started, gripping onto the wooden banister for support as both men gazed around them. After a few beats of nothing more, Nick let out a breath and turned to Greg.

"This is a crime scene, Greg. We're here to investigate a possible 419, so I would appreciate it if you could pay a bit more attention." He stated, giving Greg a look that was part stern, part fond amusement, as Greg nodded and placed the picture down onto the desk and moved over to join Nick by the staircase. Both men then shone their flashlights up and into the gloom above. Greg leaned close to Nick.

"The officers did clear the scene, right?"

Nick turned to Greg and gave him a nod before beginning to climb the stairs, his hand resting carefully against his gun, tucked neatly into its holster on his hip. Glancing around the entrance hall one last time, Greg crept up the stairs after his friend.

Reaching the second floor, Nick and Greg turned first one way and then the other, shining flashlight beams down the stretching corridors, over piles of rubble and faded walls, taking note of the doors on either side. A bang sounded again and both men spun around, their panting loud and ragged in the otherwise silent hall. Both fixed their lights shining on one door, swinging on its hinges as if beckoning them inside. It rattled against the wall, stuttering as if caught in a breeze. Greg gulped as Nick began to walk slowly towards it, gun already drawn and leading the way.

"Nick..." Greg whispered, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He spun around, beam shooting down the opposite corridor, up to the ceiling, along the floor. The corridor was deserted. Taking a deep breath, Greg hurried after Nick, who had reached the banging door and was now peering inside the room. Greg stepped up behind him and peered over his shoulder.

The room was small, dank but uncluttered. It was lit by one window, the moon shining in from above and creating slanting shadows across the floor. There was a sink, a chair turned over, one of its legs broken, and a small single cot in the corner. In the centre of the mattress was a large dark stain, which was mirrored on the floor in dark puddles on the dusty white tiles. The room stunk of death, and Greg swallowed thickly, watching as Nick set his kit down carefully and readied some swabs, first testing for blood and then taking various samples around the room. Greg watched with a feeling of detachment, his gaze wandering around the space.

"It's not fresh..." He muttered, staring at the bars crossing the window. Below him, Nick was nodding.

"The way the pools on the floor have dried into the centre of the tiles, I would say this was years old." He confirmed, rubbing at the stain with a gloved finger. "So if this isn't it, where's our crime scene?"

Greg shrugged with a sigh, placing his kit down on the floor to step closer to Nick. His hand on the door frame, he turned to look out at the corridor again, stopping short as he caught sight of a figure staring back at him, dirty white gown trailing to the floor. Greg gasped and flicked his flashlight up at the hall, but was met with nothing but emptiness. He jumped again when Nick's hand touched his shoulder.

"You ok?"

Unable to reply, Greg gazed up and down, peering into the gloom as Nick watched him silently, a small frown on his face.

"Come on, let's go back outside and wait for Brass." He muttered, gripping his kit and moving past Greg and out into the deserted hallway, leaving Greg to stumble after him, the beam of his flashlight shaking slightly in his hand.

Clattering down the main staircase, the two men reached the double front door with relief. Nick clasped the handle and pulled, grunting when it refused to budge. He tried again, yanking as hard as he could and growling in frustration when the door remained grudgingly in place. Greg stepped up then, worried frown firmly in place, and together they pulled and pushed and thumped and yelled, but the door didn't move, and no one responded from outside. Nick paced backwards, gazing around him, his kit forgotten next to Greg's on the floor.

"We could smash a window..." He muttered, gazing around him. From his position slumped against the wall, Greg sighed and shook his head.

"It won't do any good. Even if we smash one, they have bars on them. We're trapped."

Nick's wide eyed gaze made Greg regret his choice of words, and he pushed himself off the wall to approach his friend, but Nick waved him off, tightening his grip on his flashlight and using it to scope out the corridors to the left and right of them.

"There must be another way out," He stated firmly, his voice low and steady. "We'll just have to hunt until we find it." Greg sighed as he watched Nick grab his kit and start off down the right hand corridor.

"I don't like the sound of that..." He mumbled, but followed Nick further into the old building.

xXx

They passed room after room, some empty, some cluttered with broken furniture and overturned hospital beds. Peering into one, Greg could make out the dark outline of a small pool. A leather harness hung over it, swaying slightly, metal buckles glinting in the beam of his flashlight. Greg gulped and stepped backwards, bumping into Nick and uttering a small gasp before the older man clutched his arm and pulled him close, whispering in his ear.

"We need to stay together."

Greg nodded, shivering slightly at the feel of Nick's heat pressed against his side, his body responding even as anxiety continued to cloud his mind. Not letting go of his arm, Nick guided them both down the corridor and towards a room at the end.

Pushing open the door, they were greeted with row after row of metal doors, stacked one on top of the other, along the far wall. Some were locked shut, others stood open, their metal trays pushed out into the room. Nick ran his flashlight over them as Greg uttered a nervous chuckle.

"Doc Robbins would be right at home."

He saw Nick smile and felt his mood lighten a little, before a sudden noise behind them had them spinning around, gazing around them. Fixed eyes gazed back at Greg from the other end of the corridor, long hair hanging lank over her shoulders as she staggered towards him. Beside him Nick cried out and grabbed for Greg's shoulder as a steady metallic booming filled the room. Flashlights swept back and forth as lockers were flung open and trays slid out on their tracks. The building seemed to groan around them, and Greg swallowed down his own groans as he was yanked out of the room and barrelled down the corridor. He stumbled, unseeing, into another room and slumped against the door, panting hard. Closing his eyes, he ran shaking hands through his hair, the beam of his flashlight glinting unknowingly off dulled blue tiles. Opening his eyes again and gazing around him, it was then that Greg noticed he was alone.

Peering out into the hallway, Greg whispered Nick's name softly, but heard nothing. Around him everything was quiet and still again, as if the events of a few moments ago had never taken place. Trying to quell the panic beginning to build in the pit of his stomach, Greg turned to face the room he had run into.

He was back in the pool room, the air filled with the stench of stagnant water and something else, something indefinable. Taking shaky steps forward, unable to stop himself, Greg stepped up to the waters edge and gazed down. The water was murky and hidden mostly by a layer of rubble and dust so that the surface appeared a solid black. The blue of the tiles was faded and worn, dents and scratches marring its facade. He leaned forward, squinting, almost as if he could see something lurking in the water. Something out of reach and untouchable, but tempting all the same. He reached out with trembling fingers, hardly daring to breathe, and then he was falling. He uttered a sharp cry as his feet slipped out from under him and he hit the water with a dull splash. He was instantly pulled under, held under by grasping fingers. He screamed, thrashing, trying to claw his way out as he was pushed down, into the muck and grime and death of the old building. He opened his eyes and gazed upwards, towards a light that he couldn't place, and into the eyes of a figure standing over him, her hair falling over her face but not enough to hide the wicked smile on her lips. Greg stared up at her, reaching uselessly, until he was yanked quickly upwards and pitched face forward into the cold tiles, spluttering and coughing. A hand was rubbing his back and he gazed up into Nick's concerned brown eyes.

"Greg, what the hell happened?" Nick demanded, steadying Greg as the younger man shook his head and pulled himself to his feet, peering back into the dark, yawning pool. Greg wrapped his arms around himself as Nick pulled him away.

"We have to stay together."

xXx

"I keep seeing a girl..." Greg muttered as they wandered down another corridor, avoiding the closed doors on either side of them and shining their beams along the peeling walls. Nick cursed as he tripped over an old wheelchair, sending the thing crashing into the wall with a rusty squeal. Both men held their breaths, as if waiting for the house to respond, but nothing happened and Nick turned to Greg.

"A girl?"

"She's dressed in a hospital gown, and she has long brown hair. I think she's following me, Nick." Greg stated, shifting uncomfortably as his chilled, wet clothes clung to his skin. Nick continued to gaze at him, as if trying to dispute what Greg was saying, regardless of what they had both already observed in the old building. After a moment, he settled on placing a hand gently on Greg's back and steering them down the corridor.

"Let's just try and get out here before anything else happens."

Upon turning a corner, they came across a staircase leading to the upper floors, and also down into darkness below. The middle of the staircase was caged, and Greg ran his hands over the metal as Nick shone his flashlight up and down, and then across to the far wall where a blue door stood closed. In the upper centre of the door was a window, barred of course, but showing a small sliver of forgotten moonlight. Both men ran to the door and pounded on it, slumping in defeat a moment later when it too refused to open. Nick groaned in frustration.

"This is hopeless." He cried, reaching up to rattle the bars over the window and yell out into the night. Greg waited patiently beside him, gazing at the staircase.

"There is a way out that won't be locked shut." He said quietly, turning to watch Nick as the older man stopped banging and focused on him, silently noting the other man's trepidation in response to the tone of his voice. Greg took a deep breath and gazed into Nick's eyes.

"The Death Shute."

Nick stared back at him, the only noise in the silent corridor the ragged sound of their breathing and the rattling of Greg's flashlight as fearful tremors ran through his hands.

"It's a tunnel that leads from the basement out into the woods. It's how they used to transport the bodies away from the Sanatorium without having to take them out through the main doors."

"An underground tunnel?"

Greg nodded, hardly daring to breathe as he watched the play of emotions flicker across Nick's face, before he seemed to steady himself, gripping his flashlight and turning defiantly towards the caged stairwell.

"Down?"

"Down."

xXx

At first glance, the basement was just that, a basement. Old beds were stacked in one corner, and pipes lined the dark, damp walls. The darkness was complete, with only the beams of their flashlights illuminating the way as Nick and Greg picked a path through the rubble, moving from room to room filled with the same level of abandonment. Greg could hear that Nick was breathing hard but his flashlight beam remained steady, unlike Greg's, which was shaking over the walls and shooting from one corner to the next. Above them another door banged and Greg reached for Nick, closing shaking fingers around his elbow and holding on tight. He could feel the tension pouring off Nick's body in waves, and he wished more than anything that they could have gotten a different case tonight. Grissom was definitely gonna hear about this when they got out. If they got out...Greg swallowed that thought and picked up the pace, guiding Nick through another doorway and into a large open room, with low beams and a heavy, echoing feel. Greg stopped, Nick bumping into him as they trained their beams around them.

In the centre of the room was a cage, imbedded in the dusty concrete floor and reaching up to the beams of the ceiling. In one side a metal door stood, barred with a heavy bolt. The floor inside was marred with scratches and dark stains.

"What the fuck is this?" Nick asked, his voice shaking slightly as he traced the largest pool with his flashlight, the beam picking up the red hidden unseen in the darkness. Greg trembled, his hands trailing over the metal, gripping as despair and fear washed through him, unbidden, his flashlight once again picking up a now familiar figure, watching him from the corner of the room. Her eyes were unwavering on his as she raised a hand and pointed towards the cage. Greg stumbled backwards, hearing the rattling of metal and the heavy scrape and squeak of a bolt being drawn back. Without a second though, Greg grabbed Nick and hissed urgently in his ear.

"Run."

xXx

Stumbling through the darkness, Greg cried out as his shoulder glanced off a doorway and he fell into Nick, who gripped him tightly and pulled him along. Through room after room, stretching out beneath the vast building as crashing could be heard behind them and screams rent the silence. Doors slammed and insane babbling ensued from every corner, as if the Sanatorium was coming alive around them. Greg chanced a glance behind him, seeing the woman watching them from the corner, reaching white, grasping fingers out towards them as she added to the cacophony with her own haunting wails. Greg covered his ears and turned around again, slamming into Nick who had come to a sudden stop, his flashlight shaking down into nothingness. They had reached the tunnel.

It stretched before them, leading down into the unknown. Beside him, Greg could hear Nick whimpering softly.

"What if there's no way out. What if we get down there and we're trapped." He whispered, Greg leaning close to hear him over the sounds of wailing. "Maybe we're just imagining everything that's happening here. It can't be real." He babbled, running his hands convulsively up and down his arms until Greg pulled them away. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as an inhuman shriek shook the house, pain and suffering surging around them and making them both tremble with it as Greg shouted to be heard over the din.

"You wanna stay and find out?"

Nick shook his head as Greg reached for his hand, gripping his fingers and squeezing.

"You're not alone this time. Trust me, Nick."

And as Nick nodded, Greg yanked him down into the darkness.

xXx

Stumbling and tripping, Greg urged them both on, their flashlights bouncing around them off the walls, seeming to draw in closer to them with every pounding step. Twice Nick fell, cringing against the walls and panting for breath as Greg pulled him on until finally they flung themselves out of the cave like exit of the tunnel and fell together onto the grass. Greg wrapped his arms around Nick and hung on as they both shook, the house standing tall and defiant above them, blotting out the moon and the twinkling stars.

After an unknown length of time, Greg pried his arms away from Nick and sat up, gazing around him at the silent woods and breathing in the sweet smelling fresh air. He grimaced at the grime sticking to his still damp clothes, and reached down to help Nick up beside him. Together they made their way slowly back to the front of the building, squinting as spotlights zoned in on them, accompanied by flashing blue and red.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Came the stern voice of Jim Brass as he strode towards them, followed by a carefully stepping Grissom, snug CSI jacked zipped up to his neck. Nick and Greg gazed at each other before looking up at the Sanatorium, now looking harmlessly innocent as the first rays of dawn begin to shine through the trees.

"We hit a spot of bother..." Greg said slowly, feeling another shudder travel through his friend's body. Next to them Jim snorted but said nothing, heading back to the officers in his charge. Greg raised his eyes to Grissom, waiting uncomfortably as his boss gave them a curious once over.

"Where are your kits?" He asked. Greg shrugged.

"Must be somewhere inside." He muttered, unwilling to let his mind cast over the events that had just occurred. He watched instead as Grissom raised an eyebrow at him and cocked his head to the side.

"I'll go and find them then." He stated, turning and walking over to the front of the building.

"No!" Nick and Greg yelled as Grissom stepped up to the front door, and it swung open ominously to greet him.

**The End...or is it...**

Just a little note: I hope you enjoyed it. It was my intention to keep it kinda simple and as a one shot as I didn't want to do a multi-chaptered story for this. It would be fun to really explore the building and who the woman was and what Room 502 has to do with it, and maybe I will. But for now, this is it.

As most of you have probably noted, there were no Sanatoriums of this kind built in the Vegas area, so I have based this one on Waverly Hills in Kentucky. Look it up on Google or whatever, it's one creepy place.


End file.
